


Don't ignore the silence

by charons_boat



Series: The Expansion Packs: Aesthetic Prompts Edition [1]
Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: M/M, Moving, Record shop, big city to small town, characters too maybe, daisy field, ghost - Freeform, ghost!vernon, oblivious!seungcheol, small town, tags will be added as I go
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-05
Updated: 2020-05-05
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:08:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24027136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charons_boat/pseuds/charons_boat
Summary: Vernon and Seungcheol!! Cheol is new town and everyone knows Vernon--the town's resident ghost. He hangs around the old record store, one of the only people who does, until cheol visits and meets him. No one really explains to cheol that Vernon is dead until he's kinda in love. Vernon is the only person who can get cheol to take out his headphones and actually pay attention.
Relationships: Choi Seungcheol | S.Coups/Chwe Hansol | Vernon
Series: The Expansion Packs: Aesthetic Prompts Edition [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1733224
Kudos: 6





	Don't ignore the silence

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jingletown](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jingletown/gifts).



> started writing this as a way to bribe cheolgyus into going to walgreen's to get prints follow them on twt @cheolgyus for wonderful aus and cute giveaways and also a wonderful friend uwu

The train rumbled softly as it sped along the tracks, headed towards a small town hours away from the city--hours away from the place I'd grown up. Night was falling, and I wondered how the driver of the moving truck was faring; the gruff old man had started out hours ago, intending to arrive about the same time my train was set to. I stared out the window with weary eyes and silently hoped that I'd arrive soon, that I wouldn't fall asleep before the train stopped, and that the fields of flowers streaming in and out of my view would surround the town. They looked peaceful and quiet, and I'd never had the chance to sit among flowers before. It seemed like something that would be as easy as breathing. 

Finally, the darkening sky began to lighten again, although it was only the lights of the train station that made the night grow softer. Moving to this small town had had an odd feeling to it, as if I'd been trying to fall asleep but I'd been thinking too much to actually fall into sleep and dreams. Now, though, it felt like my mind had finally quieted; I felt, now, like I could finally calm down and begin to rest. Ever since I'd boarded the train, I'd been held aloft by some strange, dreamy quality--I wasn't sure if it had something to do with the train itself or if it was because I was finally leaving the city with all its lights and noises and troubles. 

The train slowed and stopped, and I slowly stood up, waiting for a few of the other passengers to walk past while I checked my pockets for my phone and wallet and the keys to my new house and car. I'd used buses and Ubers in the city, because gas and rent were expensive, but the house had been cheap and so had the car, and gas was nearly a full dollar cheaper. When I was certain I had all my things, I stepped into the aisle and walked towards the exit, leaving as quickly as I could. I walked out of the train station and started looking for the moving truck: we'd decided that if we got the timing right, he'd pick me up and drive the rest of the way to the house with me. He was only supposed to wait five minutes if I wasn't already off the train when he drove past, so I hoped that he was already waiting for me. When I didn't immediately spot the white van, I pulled out my phone and dialed the first number in my recent calls. 

"Hello, it's Seungcheol. Have you already left the station, or have you not made it yet," I asked quietly. I walked off to sit on a roadside bench, putting my free hand between my knees to keep it warm. The days had been warming up, early spring bringing surprisingly pleasant days interspersed with cool showers, but the nights--especially those that rumbled with thunder and filled the air with chilled rain--were still cold. 

"I'll be there in a couple of minutes. Are you waiting outside the station," the driver asked. I could hear the creeping exhaustion in his voice, and I knew I'd be offering to let him spend the night. 

"Yeah. I'm sitting on a bench by the road. It's the only one I saw, so I don't think it'll be hard to find." The man made a noise of acceptance and hung up, and I slipped my phone back into my pocket. As my second hand joined the first between my knees, I regretted not bringing a coat with me. I could've sworn I'd meant to grab one--I felt a lot like it was on my mental checklist at one point--but it seemed that I'd forgotten to grab it on the way out the door, or maybe I'd packed it up with the last of my things on accident. I stared at the stars, a small smile making its way onto my face in light of their quiet, twinkling radiance. I hadn't seen the stars in a long time because even at night the city was awake and the lights from the hundreds and thousands of buildings blocked out the stars. 

When the headlights of a car shone in my face, I blinked and lifted my hand to block the light. When my eyes readjusted a few seconds later, I realized it was the moving truck. I stood up and walked around to the otherside of the idling vehicle, pulling the door open and climbing in. The driver began to pull into the street as I put on my seatbelt, and he laughed when he noticed. The sound was deep and reverberated through the cab. 

"We're nearly there, you don't need the seat belt," he told me. I nodded and looked out the window, leaving the seat belt buckled despite his words. 

"I know. It makes me feel safer to wear it though. I don't trust the other drivers," I told him. He scoffed and turned down the radio. It wasn't the music I normally listened to, more accented voices than loud instrumentation. 

"What, and you trust me?"

"Yes," I answered softly. I turned to look at him, leaving my arm propped against the window. "If I didn't trust your driving, I wouldn't have hired you to bring my things to my house." He didn't respond, though whether it was because he didn't know how to or because we were two streets and a few turns away from the house I don't know. A minute later, we were rolling into the rocky driveway, and I realized that the ten second drive from the road to the house had been the longest driveway I ever went down. I couldn't even remember ever having a driveway, though a friend further from the center of the city had had a short strip of concrete through their front yard. He turned off the van and started to open his door. 

"Uhm, sir," I asked quietly. He stopped, his hand on the door handle, and turned to look at me. "You sounded tired on the phone. If you'd like to, you can stay the night and we can unload the truck in the morning." He looked at me oddly, perhaps trying to determine what my purpose in offering to let him stay the night was. He relaxed after a few seconds and nodded, opening his door as he thanked me and accepted the offer. The wind felt almost like ice as we walked to the front door, and I unlocked it with chilled fingers against the warm metal of the key. I turned on the lights in the entry hall and kneeled down to untie my shoelaces. The driver slipped off his tennis shoes without untying the laces and left his socks on. I walked into the living room and turned on that light as well. The light revealed a worn couch and a scratched coffee table. 

"You can take the bed if you'd like, I'm fine with the couch," I offered. He nodded and let me lead him to the bedrooms. They stood across from each other, and both had plain white sheets covering the mattresses inside them. The beds both sat on the floor, and both were very hard. The old driver didn't seem to mind as he laid down on the mattress. I turned off the light and shut the door as he bid me good night, and I returned his meaningless sentiment. The couch was too small to be sleeping on, and though it was soft it was also well-used and had gone flat at some point in the past decade. Regardless, the night and the town I was spending it in still had that sleepy, dreamy quality to them, and it lulled me to sleep quickly. It was the first time in a while that my mind hadn't been filled to the brim with anxious thoughts.


End file.
